


Vivat Militiae Coelestus

by EnochianWhisperer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Heaven, One Shot, The Heavenly Host, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-03-24 00:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnochianWhisperer/pseuds/EnochianWhisperer
Summary: A (probable) alternate series finale in which Jack successfully restores Heaven's angel population.





	Vivat Militiae Coelestus

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this work employs a brilliant headcanon that I didn't create. I lost the source of this headcanon, a tumblr user, a while ago. If you recognize your headcanon in this piece, or you recognize it and can point me to the creator, I will give them due credit. Thank you.

Jack stood among a coalition of the highest ranking angels in Heaven. He was not restrained in any fashion, nor was he coerced by any means. He had seen many magnificent sights but bearing witness to the congregation of angels gathered in Heaven's Garden—which on this occasion far out-sized even the Miracle Garden of Dubai—had to be the most splendid thing he had ever witnessed. Although the population of angels had been severely crippled, there were still at least a very few thousand who survived to present themselves before the magisterial oligarchy that had formed after the deposition of Metatron. The new government of Heaven had been Hannah's creation, but then she was killed after a vote was cast on legislation that demanded the incarceration of Castiel. Her empty seat had long been filled with a new, democratically elected official. They stepped forward in regal robes.  
  
"Brothers and sisters of Heaven!" The angel's voice was amplified so that it resounded over the entire Garden, and the dull roar of the Host fell silent. Jack's face was stone, but he couldn't help feeling awe.  
  
"Blessed is this day...," they continued in a lilting tone that didn't lose its volume, "for it is with joy that we announce SALVATION!"  
  
All eight officers began chanting in booming voices. It was the Enochian language that they spoke. He patiently waited for the formal processions to finish, casting his gaze upon the angels nearest him in the crowd. Not one of their faces were mirthful.  
  
"Brothers and sisters," the angel continued, "the old ways we abided by are no more. We have been abandoned by God and we have suffered immeasurably because of His negligence. We say to this 'NO MORE!' "  
  
" ** _NO MORE!_** " the Garden echoed in unison and fists rose against the flawless, blue sky canvassing the scene. Jack's stocism faltered at the explosive response.  
  
"We have had to change! Adapt! Compromise ourselves and our ways of life in order to survive in a God-less universe! And we will be _damned_ if we accept the extinction of our race with PASSIVE RESIGNATION! WE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY!"  
  
The Garden surged with cacophonic consensus and Jack visibly winced against the piercing shrill of a language that he couldn't speak.  
  
"HERE!" the angel shouted, and the noise receded like a withdrawing ocean tide. They were pointing at Jack. "In the Beginning, God decreed the extinction of the Nephilim because they were abominations that destroyed His creation: humanity!"  
  
Jack lifted his head.  
  
"We urge you, brothers and sisters, to reconcile any bigotry you may hold in your hearts. We have designed an accord with this specimen! In exchange for the restoration of our populations, we will grant Jack Kline immunity from persecution! He will be free to live out his days in peace so long as those days are lived out in a realm set apart from our own. He has agreed to these terms, and has expressed a desire to take the following individuals with him on his departure: Sam Winchester! Dean Winchester! Mary Winchester! Castiel!"  
  
The crowd erupted in discordant objection. The masses riled, and Jack was only able to pick out fragments of speech. They demanded justice from Castiel.  
  
"WE HAVE AGREED TO THESE TERMS—"  
  
The Host would not be silenced. Jack saw many of them brandishing weapons, furious flashes of Grace snapping, and for the first time, Nimue, the orator, was subdued. Chaos was quickly unraveling and Jack saw the officials glancing among themselves. No one seemed sure how to proceed. He was appalled.  
  
Suddenly several angels broke from the mass and rushed at the dais they were standing on. They were all armed, most of them with standard stock angel blades. The ceremonial guards lining the foot of the platform unsheathed long swords.  
  
Jack screamed.  
  
The Garden was flattened instantly. Every angel present was swept off of their feet and hit the ground. Shock waves razed multitudinous acres until Jack ran out of breath. His eyes, aglow, took in the destruction he had caused, and the lights in them died. He looked to Nimue and their affiliates beside him on the stage, horrified. He watched disorientated angels recover themselves, and he saw the guards rising to face him.  
  
"LISTEN!" Jack shouted without thinking. " _ **LISTEN!**_ "  
  
His plea projected over the angels, physically commanding them into stillness. The entire Garden was captivated in temporal suspension. It was utterly silent.  
  
Discomfited, Jack looked to the officials for guidance, but they were just as abated as the rest of them; they only stared at him. He took heavy breaths, gathered himself together, and lifted his eyes back up to the expanse of waiting angels.  
  
"...I don't have to do this," he said. "I don't— _have_ to help you. But I _want_ to.  
  
"...I'm half-human, half-angel. Not only that, I was sired by the angel Heaven hates most. These facts make my existence abominable in your eyes. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be _alive_. Many of you believe this. I haven't been alive for very long, but... I know that your predisposed hatred towards me is _unfair_. I am not my father's son. I may have his blood, but I've revoked that paternal title from him and I _reject_ any and all association with him. I have chosen to be different. To be _better_ than Lucifer. Instead of seeking vengeance on the beings that wiped out my kind, I've chosen to extend a hand to them. To you. Wise men and women once told me that it doesn't matter what you are; it matters what you do.  
  
"I haven't been alive long enough to know the pain you all have suffered. But like you, I want peace. I want prosperity for everyone, even my persecutors. I want Heaven restored to the glory I'm told it once had. I believe I can accomplish this.  
  
"...Is it so much to ask, then, that you pardon my father?"  
  
Jack expected an outcry of some kind, but not a peep was heard.  
  
"Reparations are overdue," he continued, "and I ask you to allow me to pay them. I ask you to return to your guardianship of humanity, as you were tasked long before me. I ask that you let my family and I leave this plane of reality peacefully so that you may fulfill your duties unobstructed.  
  
"....Well?"  
  
The Host became animate at once, broken from their trance. Nimue put a hand on Jack's shoulder, alerting him, and they stepped forward.  
  
"Brothers and sisters! It is by a nephilim that the Heavenly Host may once again rise to the altitudes of greatness that we once relished! There is no other way! WHAT SAY YOU!"  
  
The Host roared resounding approval. Jack's face brimmed with ecstatic joy. Nimue gestured to the other officials. They stepped towards a wall that stood sly against the back of the dais and began to paint a large sigil while the Host cheered. Nimue, Jack, and the Host watched as Gabriel's Horn was established on the old stones. The cheering evolved into organized Enochian chanting. Jack swallowed a lump forming in his throat and stepped closer to the sigil. One of the officials handed him the incantation written on old parchment. It had been translated into English phonetics so that he could pronounce the words. Once the preparations were complete, Nimue turned to the Host and raised a hand.  
  
Everyone ceased.  
  
Jack tried to suppress the quaking on his hands. He read the words over carefully a few times, listened to his voice utter them in his head. Then he spoke.  
  
The Horn began to glow as he enunciated every syllable precisely. He refused to look up for the parchment for fear of making a mistake, so he didn't notice right away when it began to pulsate like a beating heart. As he read, he forced his mind to detach from the task at hand and onto a psychic tangent. He reached for the wall, pressed his palm against Horn, and once he shouted the final word, his eyes glared fierce light. Jack set his sights on The Empty.  
  
Nimue and the others stepped closer and lay their hands on him. Jack's senses, sharpened to a fine point, penetrated the dark dimension and the reading of the Register began.  
  
One by one, the names of multitudes of angels were recited, and Jack, a conduit, transferred them into The Empty. Jack focused on opening a metaphysical rift to bridge the two dimensions. A small slit of orange light appeared in the air at the bottom of the dais. He strained to widen the hole he pierced, and slowly, the fabric gave. He could feel massive amounts of energy begin to build on the other side; it was working.  
  
White smoke seeped through the hole. The Garden was rife with excitement as the first angel manifested before them, resurrected. Many of them began to pitch their own energy to Jack, shouting the names of friends and comrades alike. As the rift widened, more and more smoke poured out of The Empty, and more and more angels were coughed up alive. Dazed and confused, these were received joyously. Hannah and Rachel were among the countless who were named, and they each stepped out of the throes of death rejuvenated. Of course, there were certain subgroups of angels who were denied honorable mentions: Usurpers like Naomi, Metatron, Raphael, Bartholomew, anarchists like Malachi, and traitors like Gadreel, Balthazar, and the Watchers. Jack went completely unaware of biases like these in the composition of the Register; all he was concerned with was getting as many angels out as he could.  
  
He flexed his mind and celestial energy, trying not to overexert himself, but atomic pressure closed on him like a vise. He shouted in pain, and white light began to glow in his veins. The Horn's energy pulsed through his body, lending him some resistance to the closure, but it wasn't enough to secure his hold. The Empty was trying to snap shut. He didn't know the ratio of escaped angels to trapped ones, but he could feel many of them pushing and shoving to get through. The Garden was, by this point, enveloped in so much angelic smoke that the artificial sun was blotted out of the sky. The vise tightened and tightened and his entire body burned as though he'd been dipped in holy oil and set on fire. The officials sensed what was happening and did what they could to assist him, but the task was beyond their capabilities.  
  
Jack endured such excruciating pain that he thought the endeavor was going to kill him. Despite the thought, he stayed the course until, at last, he was overwhelmed and the rift imploded. The angels in closest proximity to the rift was hauled forward as though a rug had been yanked out from under them. Jack and the officials were no exception; they were snagged by an invisible force and thrown towards the wound in Heaven's fabric. Jack collided with a solid projectile and blacked out.  
  
  
  
Jack woke up in one of Heaven's medical facilities. These were often reserved for soldiers wounded in combat, but Jack's presence there, like the totality of his being, was ever the exceptional case. Confused, he first tried to ascertain his location, but Nimue, waiting by his side, told him, "Rest, Jack."  
  
His brows furrowed. "...What happened?"  
  
"You saved angelkind."  
  
"I did..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jack contemplated this simple, yet profound answer. The Rit Zien charged with his care came around to administer the next treatment and he gasped when he felt his nerves come alive with the heat of a radiator. He heard his skin sizzle and bit his fist, jerking his limbs. A scream slipped out. Nimue held onto him sympathetically. Almost as though it were an afterthought, the Rit Zien anesthetized Jack.  
  
  
  
Before Jack was well enough for discharge, Nimue proposed a holding ceremony to honor him. Jack refused to make another appearance before the Heavenly Host en masse. "I just want to go home," he said. Nimue respected his decision, although they were disappointed. Still, Nimue assured him, "We will sing songs in your honor for millenia to come. You will be remembered in Heaven as a hero."  
  
Jack might've cared about the celebratory prestige more if he wasn't so fatigued at the time. In any case, it lifted his spirits to know that he succeeded in getting himself out from under the manteling disgrace of Lucifer in the end.  
  
After being discharged, he was escorted to Heaven's Gate by a small entourage of guardsmen, alone with Nimue and another representative of the oligarchic elite. The officials bestowed upon Jack blessings and gifts, then sent him on his way. With a smile on his face, Jack passed into the light and his very human body dissolved. His molecules were transported to earth, down to the sandbox in the children's playground and reassembled in their original form. The light vanished and the dust settled; the Gate was closed, its elaborate, geometric sigil erased at his feet.  
  
There, waiting for him, was Castiel.  
  
Casitel's expression conveyed abundant relief, and he drew the boy into his arms. Jack's smile dissolved with tears running down his face.  
  
" _You're alive,_ " the angel exhaled, clasping the back of his head with a hand.  
  
" _I did it,_ " Jack sobbed into his shoulder. " _I did it, Castiel. I healed Heaven._ "


End file.
